Reunion
by Natalie Nallareet
Summary: After a fight with Harry, John's unwilling to pick up the phone until he sees it's Molly. Quickly, he rushes to St. Barts where Moran has locked down the building. Post Season 2, Johnlock one-shot.


_**A/N** __Another post season two Johnlock/Shwatsenlock piece, although this ones a bit more in character! Second one-shot of 'The things I miss the most...' collection._

_**Rated T **for death_

* * *

"John, I don't know how else to say this, but maybe..." Harry paused slightly over the phone. "Maybe it would help if you pretended, or more like accepted that he never was."

I knew this was coming. It always came, from everyone. It still tore at my heart like a bullet, still suffocated me under it's invisible hands. But I'd never join. No matter what Harry said, no matter what... what he said. "You stop it right now!" I screamed at her, my word's empty, because I could never changed what anyone thought. "He was real, Harry! You didn't know him! No one knew him like I did!"

"John-" Harry tried to cut in impatiently.

"Fine," my voice broke, horse from the yelling-not at her but at the world, at everything. "You go and pretend he's a fake. Play Moriarty's game! Because he was real, and there is nothing that would convince me otherwise." I slammed the phone down, creating another scratch on its surface. I didn't want this phone. It was from Harry, and she didn't believe. But try as I might... I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. Because I still had the insane hope that the black haired genius would send me a text saying he was alright... saying that he could do that one last thing for me... Three years, three damned years and I still couldn't bring myself to admit it was the end. First I thought that it would pass, all deaths were hard to take in. But a year passed and nothing changed-if anything it got worse. Especially recently, I kept seeing him places, flickers in the light, strangers with seemingly the right face. One time I had even rushed up to a man, toppled with books.

"Sherlock?" I had stupidly asked the withered man.

"Aye?" he called out, squinting at me. "What did you call me?"

"Sorry," I muttered, my eyes lowered to the ground in embarrassment. "Thought you had been someone else."

Sorry, the word still rang in my ears. It wasn't a word of apology to me any more-it was one of unthinkable deads. They were sorry, they were all sorry because they no longer believed. Sherlock had never said it though. I was glad he hadn't, because sorry meant there was something that needed apology. It was stupid really-silly. He had done the most unforgiving thing he could... Sherlock left me.

The phone rang again, I glared at my sister's contact number before silencing it with a quick answer and hang up. Most likely she was just going to leave a long pleading. I wasn't going to hear it.

When it came down to it, it was the less important things I missed the most from Sherlock, the small things. The way his voice sped up during deductions, the way he bundled his legs up while watching telly. It was the way he looked into my eyes with such undying trust. Maybe that's why we started off so quick, looking for a flat the second time we laid eyes on each other. Because something about me trusted him, so deeply that I still trusted him, even now... to come back...

Despite my clear message to Harry the phone rang again. At first I just let it ring, something to break the silence. Warily I glanced at the contacts, ready to keep Harry from leaving her 'convincing' message. My hand paused slightly at the name: Molly. She'd kept to herself since Sherlock's disappearance, at least when it came to me.

"Molly?" I asked uncertainly, finally answering the phone.

"John, listen," Molly whispered into the phone anxiously, fear woven into her voice. "There's not much time. Come to St. Barts and no matter what you see, don't stop until you reach the roof."

"You want me to go onto the roof?" I asked horsley. I had kept clear of even driving past the hospital. Going to wear he had jumped would be a whole nother problem.

"J-John," Molly's voice trembled, still a whisper. "Moran's on the roof, someone who worked for Moriarty, and-just come quickly, okay?"

"Alright," I nodded coming to my senses. "Hang in there, Molly." Her line went dead and I rushed to the door, pausing only to grab my gun.

"Taxi!" I called out, ignoring the ghost of Sherlock's tall figure doing the same. "St. Bart's hospital, thanks." As I always did when getting in a taxi, I got a good look at the cabby, even though I wouldn't be able to tell if they were a serial killer if they were one... Sherlock would be able to though.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, I told myself as we arrived to the place that haunted me every moment, knowing it wouldn't do any good. "Thank you," I payed the Cabby and rushed into the hospital. Before I reached the door I glimpsed two figures on the roof, silhouetted against the cloudy sky. Not like that would ever stop me, I couldn't help but remember what Molly had insisted on: ...don't stop until you reach the roof. The building seemed fairly empty, which was probably according to what ever day it was, didn't really keep track of that anymore.

I ran up the steps three at a time, my gun kocked and at the read. Taking a second to catch my breath I slipped through the doors to the rooftop. Oh god, this is where it happened... where Sherlock had done with Moriarty dead behind him. This is where he had done it. My eyes flew over the rooftop to the two men, one holding the other at gunpoint. Luckily the armed one who I assumed was Moran was facing away, concentrating fully on his victim. But the other... oh god the other... My head spun with protest. Our eyes met for a millisecond and my blood froze. Don't... don't think about that John-you can't afford to right now. Not allowing the cloud that had encased my brain to affect me, I pulled the trigger. The air exploded at the bullet's bang. All at once everything seemed to play in slow motion. The bullet sped forward and Moran collapsed in a heap, almost knocking the other person off the roof.

"John?" That voice, that voice... he rushed towards me as the world slid out of focus.

"Sh-sherlock?" I managed to wheeze before the world grew black.

Warmth, that was the first thing I felt as I came about, warmth and comfort. That wasn't all either... there was the smell of tea, smoke, and... Sherlock? No, that wasn't right. I must have been back in 221b. That was it... or no, not quite. There was a nagging doubt in the back of my brain. Oh that's right, I had promised myself that I wouldn't return until Sherlock did.

"John?" Sherlock asked hesitantly.

My eyes shot open at the sound of his voice. He hovered above me, an alien expression of worry upon his features. "Sherlock...? What happened?" We were definitely in our old flat. For once the fireplace was in use. Sherlock was bent beside me where I layed on the couch.

"Are you alright?" his eyes searched rapidly scanned my face. "You shot Moran and then fainted."

"No, not that," I huffed, ignoring his first question and heaving myself up into a sitting position on the couch. My hands clenched as I fought the impulse to punch him. To be honest, I was surprised I was holding back this well. "You know what I mean. Why? Why did you fake your death? Did you know the hell I've gone through? I thought you were dead Sherlock! Blimey, three-"

"Three bullets," Sherlock muttered, looking in my eyes with those gleaming blue ovals.

"What?" I asked, cocking my head slightly.

"Three bullets. Three victims," he continued in a slightly louder voice, his face sheet white. "Three gunmen who would only stop if they saw me fall."

"Oh god..." I murmured, hating myself for all those hours of anger. "But why for this long...?"

"The gunmen stayed around for awhile, until I managed to take them out one by one actually," Sherlock explained in his usual quick manner, his eyes bore into me as though he was trying to memorize every detail. "Moran was your gunman and.." He gripped my hand.

"You came back!" I laughed in a release of adrenaline. "You survived!" I leaned forward and embraced Sherlock in a tight squeeze of a hug. He tensed at first, before wrapping his arms around me as well. We weren't going to let each other go, not ever again.


End file.
